[House of Morgan 01.0 - 03.0] Boxed Set

by Victoria Pinder

  "What?"

  "Why did you ruin your dress?"

  Belle picked up the bottom of the dress in the bag. It was still slightly wet and smelled now. "How did you know?"

  She opened the door and held her breath as her friend said, "It's in my news feed and what people have asked me. You were apparently seen wearing Peter Morgan's clothes as you left his yacht."

  "He took me to dinner, and I fell in the ocean."

  "An unlikely story."

  "Yet the truth.”

  "I don't even believe you. You’re always steady and strong. And if I don’t buy that, no one else would."

  Belle gazed at a two-floor suite with ceilings that appeared to have been hand painted. She went to one side and saw a balcony and a full view of all of whatever part of Miami she was in. She exhaled and ran to the other side of the suite. Yep. There was a second balcony. The spacious living room could have been made for the President of the United States.

  She mumbled to her friend, "It's not important."

  Em's voice was perky. "You're a disaster out for fun. You did look like you fell into the ocean. Did he fish you out or send a servant?"

  "He was in the ocean already." The dolphin had seemed a private moment. She licked her salty lips. "We went swimming."

  "In your dress?"

  "Yeah, in my dress. I didn't have a swim suit, and he asked me." There was a baby grand piano near the dining room table. Belle fell onto the couch and covered her eyes. "This is too much. The dress didn't cost nearly this much."

  "What happened? What's too much?"

  She had landed in Oz. As she peeked through her fingers toward a closet, she gasped. "Peter said he'd take care of getting me a new dress. There are designer clothing boxes everywhere in my room."

  She couldn't tell Em about this room too. She'd pinch her.

  “What!” Instead her friend sounded wistful as she said, "Where are these jewels? We’re the same size. Before you send any back, save me one."

  No she wouldn't. She'd tell her to run. Belle stiffened in her seat and prepped for it. "Not jewels. Dresses."

  "I got it the first time. I'm sure there is an extra one for me then. Why are you stressing over clothes?"

  "I'm not. It's just strange. I agreed to be Peter Morgan's date to this wedding."

  "OMG. The Mr. Peter Morgan? I can’t believe you went out with him of all people. He’s the heir to the American dynasty who owns more money than the United States treasury. You have nothing in common. You’re not out for his money and don’t fit into that lifestyle at all."

  “He can keep his money as far as I’m concerned.” Perhaps asking him to stand beside her was slightly too much. She had come here for closure, not to date though Em’s statement about her churned in her gut. She pushed her hair behind her ear.

  "Now that sounds like you. You're going on a date with Mr. Monopoly."

  “Not exactly.” A chuckle escaped her lips. The image didn't fit. "He doesn't wear a top hat."

  "You should ask him too on this big date tonight. Is he hot like he seems in his business profile?"

  She leaned her head on the back of the couch. Peter's dimples replayed in her mind along with his warm chocolate eyes.

  "He's a womanizing charmer. He gets any woman he wants."

  "Including you?"

  Maybe. A kiss might not be enough but then it usually was. She shook her head.

  "No. I'm just saying he's gorgeous, sexy and charming. He's everything I will never want."

  "Sounds like every girl's living nightmare, all right. So you are going out with him...why?"

  The sarcasm wasn't lost on her, but Belle had no answer. "I didn't want to be alone tonight, so I asked him."

  That hadn't sound so pathetic. She closed her eyes.

  "You never ask out a man. You never wanted to date again, and now here you are out with the brother of the woman who stole your fiancé?"

  Now that was an angle she should have thought of on her own. Belle opened her eyes as she said, "Where are you and the others, Em?"

  "We're on some tour. I am clearly not paying attention to the guide. Wish I was closer so I could come find you."

  "We're at the same hotel now, I think. Are you staying at the Biltmore with the other wedding guests?"

  "Perfect, he hooked you up with a room so you have your friends."

  The penthouse wasn’t so she’d be with friends. "This is far nicer than my last minute plans."

  "You deserve the best. Colt and that wedding disaster hurt you. You're beautiful both on the inside and out."

  Her heart warmed her chest again. "You're just saying that because I'm your friend."

  "I want you to have fun. Don't put your heart on the line to be destroyed again. Just relax and enjoy your date."

  She pressed her lips together. "What do you mean?"

  "You love deeply and never let go. Colt's ex came back from the dead. Don't let that one thing ruin your future. And if you do let Peter into your bed, remember who and what he is. Try to keep that heart of yours out of it."

  Heat now expanded into all her limbs. Em was truly her best friend, though sex with Peter Morgan wasn't something she could discuss. Her face prickled from that thought. "Who is he really, though? There is something else going on."

  "I don't know. You met him. You're going out with him tonight."

  For one moment, he had her believing in the impossible. A cold shower would cure her. "I did. He's guarded. One woman already wants to scratch my eyes out, but I think he's nice."

  "Ignore the jealous girl. He's nice?"

  It wasn't hard to believe. "Yeah."

  "You're a goner already."

  No. This was bad enough. "I don't love easily."

  "No, but you do love hard. Try to keep everything simple with this guy. He's not normal. Mr. Monopoly isn't someone you can take home to meet your dad. Your dad likes simple answers and wants you to date a mechanic."

  Truer words weren't spoken. "See you soon, Em."

  "Bye."

  Belle marched up the circular stairs and went toward a bedroom. She found her original suitcase and opened it. She placed her mother's picture on the nightstand as she always did, though she wasn't sure she'd stay.

  A knock on the door reverberated in the air. Peter leaning against the door right now would be all she needed to pass out on the floor. Belle clutched the handle then opened it to three women.

  As she pressed her lips together, all three charged at her. One held a tape measure and one went for her hair as the other studied her. Belle's legs were restless as tingles grew in her chest.

  One of the women said, "You'll need to wash so we can prepare you."

  No one prepared her, except her. Her insides practically quivered as she tore herself away from them. "Who are you?"

  The same one said, "Hair, makeup and clothes. We're here to ensure you are ready for tonight."

  Did Hair, Makeup and Clothes use that as their names? Peter shouldn't pay for all this. Belle wrung her hands.

  "I can't do my own hair?"

  "Not like Nancy can."

  Nancy must be the one that had tugged at her hair a minute ago. The one that spoke must be Clothes as she held the tape measure and said, "Did you pick your dress for tonight? Or was there a different designer you'd prefer we get for you? I need to ensure it's a perfect fit in every way."

  The boxes were lined up in the front hall. Perhaps she'd only have to spend some of her savings and might return the others. She let out a breath, though she was still a little dizzy. "I've not looked."

  Clothes shook her head. "I've hung everything in your closet."

  Of course she had. She rested her arms on the table beside her and gazed toward the floor. "My mind is a whirlwind."

  "Do you need us to bring in a doctor?" She rushed to open the closet as she said that. Miss Clothes was too much.

  Belle held her stomach as she stood. "No. I need everyone to give me a half an hour to take a shower
and then come back."

  The three women nodded to each other and went to the door. "Yes, miss."

  As soon as they left, Belle slammed it shut and rested on it. This dream was out of control. One night with one billionaire did not have to change everything about her.

  Chapter 8

  Peter sat in his office and stared at a balance sheet. His fingers ran through his hair as he considered a request from a South American house for more money. The balance sheets read that this house was bought twenty-five years ago. The same year his mother left him. He had a tingle in his chest that this unknown expense was relevant, but his gut feeling made no sense.

  He tapped his hands on his desk and ignored how his gut twisted. He had never seen any Morgan Incorporated figures from this part of that country. He swallowed and wrote an email. Please send the merchandise that was held in this place to my office in Miami immediately.

  Whatever his father had there was so secure that it was not written on the books anywhere. He pressed his lips together and decided that the mystery would not affect his future plans for the company. Peter tugged at his shirt collar.

  Then, as he hit send, his secretary's voice rang in the air, "Mr. Morgan is not to be disturbed."

  A disgruntled employee must be outside. Peter fixed his tie as he stood. He closed his laptop. He didn't remember firing anyone, but one of his managers might have. He took a sip of water as he strode out the door.

  His eyes widened as he stared at Belle in a pencil black skirt that clung to unknown hips in a shape most women paid for.

  His lips parted. "Belle."

  She nodded her head as she had her arms crossed. "Peter."

  He stroked his chin as he stared at her natural form. She stood with her legs parted and looked sure of herself. His muscles tightened. He had to have her. "You look nice."

  Her voice hitched. "I need to speak to you."

  He opened his office door wide and smiled. She reminded him of a scared animal that was on the attack at the moment, which was funny. She seemed so hard the first moment he had laid eyes on her. "Of course. Please come in."

  She held her arms firm at her stomach as she passed first his secretary and then him without brushing against him. "Is this your office?"

  He set his jaw as she gazed out the high-rise window. Her presence alone was a challenge that he'd have to figure out. He spoke to her back as he said, "Yes. This is my main office in Miami."

  The door clinked from the secretary's exit. Then she spun on her heels, and her arms flapped to her side. "The suite, the clothes, it's all too much for me."

  “No need to be shocked. All the wedding guests are at the Biltmore."

  "Not in a penthouse. Peter, it's entirely too much."

  "It's not. You're my date tonight. I need to ensure you're safe."

  "Safety doesn't include Prada."

  "It actually does."

  "I was in the Marines. I've led missions. I can take care of myself."

  "I believe you."

  "Can we call off sitting together at the wedding and go back to the friends plan?"

  "I'd prefer not to." A fluttery feeling entered his stomach as he stood near her.

  "'Cause if we were friends, it would be easier to tell you no."

  "Why bother?" He leaned against his desk. "Belle, you know my life will be in the newspapers no matter what. Don't let trinkets stop us."

  "Trinkets? Us?"

  She swayed on her feet. He jumped to help her sit. She took his arm, but didn't stare at him.

  "I don't know if I can. I've never stayed in a penthouse. I'm used to camping."

  "Enjoy the moment then. Belle, I expect the best is provided for me, and I called the hotel. It's my responsibility. Enjoy the room. It's truly not a big deal."

  She crossed her legs and stared out the window. "I'm not cut out for any of this."

  He smiled and scooted the chair closer to her so their knees brushed. "Sure you are. Join me for lunch since you are here."

  Her gaze met hers. "I want to return everything you bought for me."

  "Most of the stuff wasn't even bought. They were presents from the companies that make them."

  "Why would anyone give you women's clothes?"

  "If you wear them, it's advertising."

  "I don't know about any of this, Peter."

  Her lips would taste sweet. He stared hard into her eyes. "I have a business meeting with a client and his wife. If you're there, perhaps you can speak to the wife, so I can get business handled."

  She swallowed and shook her head. "Peter, I buy guns for the military. That means I test all the weapons. I am not the type of girl who entertains the wives at a dinner party. I usually begin with a question on security and end with contract terms acceptable for both the US Military and Century Arms."

  He uncrossed his knees. The guns made her more interesting. He'd have to get his secretary to run her background.

  "Belle, you'd be doing me a favor. I don't care what you talk about with anyone. Be yourself."

  "That's the problem." She closed her eyes. "I don't understand myself with you."

  He took her hands in his and waited for her to open her gaze. "You must be hungry."

  She didn't take her hand out of his. She stared at his knuckles. "Don't be silly."

  Now he had his chance. "It's in your eyes. Is Belle your full name?"

  She licked her lips. "Yeah. Belle Sienna Jordan. Peter, I think we should call everything off."

  With a thrust of his chest, he winked. "Aren't you interested in that kiss?"

  "No." She tugged her hand away and covered her mouth. "I think the ocean water messed with my brain. I said there would be no kissing, and I meant it."

  "I remember. I have to wait with you." He reached out and gently nudged her to stand and follow him. "This way."

  She stood and took a few steps, but then pulled out of his reach. She shook her head.

  "Peter, there has to be some other woman in your life that's more qualified—"

  He interrupted. "This isn't a job interview, Belle. It's just lunch."

  "And dinner and swimming in the ocean with dolphins."

  "You think too much."

  “It’s a trait we both share.” She massaged the middle of her forehead. Peter wondered what she intended to do now, so he could counter.

  “Okay.” Her voice grew louder as she said, "It's just lunch. It's just a date. It's just hair, makeup and clothes at the door. Peter, I work for a living, and nothing is just anything. There is a reason for everything."

  "Wow. I thought I was jaded."

  "So?"

  "Belle, sometimes you have to let go to enjoy."

  "I'm not good at that I guess. I joined the Marines at age eighteen and earned my degree while serving. I'm not a girly girl and have never done light chitchat. This isn't me."

  He stopped and stared hard at her. His heart beat so loud in his ears. Her skin would be soft and touchable. To pretend what she said didn't dig under the skin, he leaned closer and licked his lips.

  "Perhaps it's what makes you fascinating. You are not like the others."

  "You used that word again." She shook her head.

  "I guess I have." He swallowed. She pressed her lips together, and he lowered his gaze to her lips. "We can make this about business?" If he kept this light, then she'd relax.

  "How?"

  He kept his hands at his sides and pretended he was his usual confident self. "Perhaps I'll have you speak to my security and recommend any upgrades they might need."

  Her gaze shot up. "I broker deals for the military, not civilians, and your company came across my desk as a cooperative effort for a military contract."

  "You know what the best is then." Her lips would taste sweet, perhaps like red delicious apples. "Can you relax and accept?"

  She massaged her neck. "I'm all mixed up."

  This was it. She'd stay if she opened up a little. The flutters in his chest grew.

 
; "What would help you straighten everything out without kicking me to the curb?"

  With a half smile, she gazed into his eyes. "I'd have to be comfortable near you, and I don't see that happening."

  "Denial can be a problem." Every muscle in his body tightened, and he exhaled through his mouth. "Comfortable comes from time and experience, which comes after you ask for that kiss."

  "You don't give up." She averted her gaze and wrung her hands. "And it would probably make this even worse for me."

  That might have pushed her too far, but he kept his chin up. "I won't mention it again."

  "You mention it all the time." She crossed her arms. "And who knows, maybe you're right."

  His mouth moistened, and his fingers ached to touch her. He brushed his hands against hers.

  "What?"

  She swallowed and then closed her eyes. "Peter Morgan, please kiss me."

  A camera crew calling out, ‘this was a set up' wouldn't have stopped him, not that anything happened. People in business suits in the lobby walked past them. He wrapped his hands in hers and led her to the empty first floor office.

  "Belle, come this way."

  She stumbled at first, but he had a grip on her. She didn't fall. He flipped on the lights and locked the door.

  She spun on her heels in the empty office. "Where are we?"

  He wrapped his arms around her waist, and she stopped moving as heat coursed through her. "Alone."

  He was lightheaded from the apple scent as he leaned down. Her lips parted and warmness filled him. She tasted exactly as she should. He loved apples. Belle fit perfect in his arms, and he tightened his hold on her, deepening the kiss. The rest of the world faded to black.

  Chapter 9

  Nothing made sense. Belle's arms were wrapped around Peter's shoulders, and she pressed her lips to his for another kiss. There was something manly and full of testosterone that made him taste far better than anyone else, including Colt.

  Electricity charged through her veins. He was everything a woman could ever desire in a man. A shiver rushed through her as she detangled her limbs from around his back.